


by any other name

by Azaisya



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Flirting, Just gals being pals, no actual battle wagon racing (sorry)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 23:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10774485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaisya/pseuds/Azaisya
Summary: Hurley hadn't meant for this to happen. She'd received the assignment three months ago and had assumed it would be easy. After all, the Raven was a smalltime criminal who did nothing worse than petty thievery. Hurley hadn't expected the Raven to be this exciting.Or: Hurley learns the Raven's name and subsequently has to think of an animal.





	by any other name

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished Petals to the Metal and I almost cried during class

Hurley hadn't _meant_ for this to happen. She'd received the assignment three months ago and had assumed it would be easy.

After all, the Raven was a smalltime criminal who did nothing worse than petty thievery.

But Hurley hadn't expected _this._

It was the dead of night, and she was sprinting down the streets of the seediest part of Goldcliff, feet pounding on cobblestones slick with rain. The moon shone brightly overhead, reflecting clearly off of the dark figure that raced a dozen paces ahead.

Sheathed in black leather, the Raven whirled around to let loose a peal of laughter. "Am I going too fast for you, Lieutenant?"

Months earlier, and Hurley would mutter a profanity.

Months earlier, the Raven wouldn't even dare to tease.

But they'd been playing this game for long enough. While the stakes were still there, the caution wasn't. It was a tumultuous balance, and trust had grown where it had no right to take root.

Hurley's face split into a wide smile, and she shouted back, "Sure you're not out of breath?"

Their game of cat and mouse took them though Goldcliff's winding streets and past the perps and other vagrants that lived in this part of the city.

Hurley wouldn't catch up; the Raven wouldn't pull too far ahead.

They were too in love with the thrill, with the adrenaline, with the raw emotions coursing through the air.

The Raven dove around a corner, into an alley, and Hurley followed without hesitation. The sound of shattering glass pervaded the silence, and Hurley was blinded by a flash of light.

When she could see again, her feet had been consumed by a solid six inches of sticky webbing. It was only her reflexes that managed to keep her from toppling face first into the webs.

Sitting on top of the nearest roof was the Raven. Slowly, once she was sure that Hurley was watching, she tossed the potion bottle down to the ground, undoubtably stolen. She then leaned over so that her elbows were on her knees, grinning impishly the entire time. "Stuck, Lieutenant?"

Hurley fought to mask her grin and failed spectacularly. "I'll catch you next time," she promised, but her heart was pounding and she wasn't sure if it was just because of the run.

The Raven laughed, the sound startlingly genuine. She combed her hair out of her face with her fingers, knowing and delighting in knowing that Hurley was watching her every move. "I'm not so sure, Lieutenant." She winked, blew her a kiss, and then kicked her heels over the side of the roof and vanished out of sight.

Hurley was left standing in the alley, face bright red and alone with the realization that she was completely and utterly enamored with a petty thief.

 

It was the Lieutenant's turn now. Sloane could now devote her time to crafting her battle wagon.

Not that the hours spent planning fun heists and engaging chases were wasted, but her true passion had always been on the track.

That didn't change the fact that the Lieutenant was steadily becoming one of the core aspects of Sloane's life, a sun for her thoughts and dreams to orbit.

Sloane trotted easily through the marketplace, constructed biweekly around the fountain in the center of town. What she really needed was paint; her wagon was more or less completed.

Despite her intent to stay on track, Sloane soon found herself wandering, wondering inevitably about the Lieutenant.

It was the most intense relationship Sloane has ever had, one founded purely out of coincidence. It didn't _fit._ There wasn't any way to describe their repertoire, their rapport, their ease.

She wondered if the Lieutenant felt the sheer strength of the bond between them, or if she was just deluding herself.

As if on cue, Sloane felt a hand -- small, nimble, and flushed with heat-- slip around her wrist. Startled, she whirled around, one hand going down to the knife hidden beneath her shirt.

The Lieutenant grinned brightly. "Caught you."

Heart hammering in her chest, Sloane beamed back at her. "I've done nothing wrong," she declared, "I'm merely going shopping."

The Lieutenant was in uniform, her badge shining in the bright sunlight. But she released Sloane anyways, falling into step beside her. "And I'd never arrest such a law abiding citizen."

The wryness in her voice made Sloane laugh and, abashed, she ran her fingers through her hair.

That was how the Lieutenant had recognized her, of course. Sloane was dressed in civilian clothes, but her hair — long and raven-black — was unmistakeable.

They walked side by side, Sloane painfully aware how close they were, how easy it would be to reach down and take her hand, how the sunlight shone off the Lieutenant's short curls.

"What's your name, anyways?"

Sloane winked at her. "I'll leave that to you to find out, Lieutenant."

The look on the Lieutenant's face — neither dejected nor irritated but _inspired_ — merely strengthened Sloane's certainty in the solidity of whatever was between them.

Sloane reached down, linking her fingers with the Lieutenant's and squeezing. "'Fraid I've got to run now. I'll see you soon?" It wasn't a question but a statement, a certainty.

They would see each other, again and again and again.

They were two sides of the same coin, two halves of the same whole, the law and the criminal.

The Lieutenant's eyes glowed. "You better tell me your name next time."

Sloane's lips cracked into a smile, and she drew away. "Nah. I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out." She waited a beat before adding, " _Hurley_."

Even the people walking by could feel the magnetism between the two, and the Lieutenant laughed, shaking her head. "You're _incorrigible._ "

Sloane lost herself in the crowd, eager for the next step in their careful dance.

 

It took Hurley far longer than she'd like to find the Raven's name. She pulled out all of her old favors, sought out contacts from years before, and took to wandering Goldcliff's streets in the hopes that it'd just fall into her lap.

In a way, it did.

She'd gotten a complaint about a dog that barked too much, which was normally menial enough that'd it'd be ignored, but she'd decided to follow up on it, if only to feel slightly useful after six days of failure. And so she found herself just a couple streets away from her home, knocking on the door of a squat house with a poorly attended garden.

Nobody answered, but a muffled voice sounded through the wood. "For the _last time_ , Sloane, I ain't getting involved in your stuff! I don't want myself getting killed!"

Hurley felt her spirits, already low, drop even lower. And here she thought it'd just be a simple chat. "Excuse me, but I'm actually—”

She never got to finish. A shadow flashed in the corner of her eye, and suddenly Hurley found herself lying flat on her back, a dagger to her throat and a weight pressing against her waist.

Shocked, Hurley found herself staring into the vivid blue eyes of the Raven.

From the door came the voice, now angry instead of irritated. "Sloane!"

The Raven turned and shouted over her shoulder, "Relax! It was a mistake, I don't need anything. Go back to sleep!"

Eyes huge, Hurley exclaimed, " _Sloane_?"

The Raven's eyes were narrowed, and there was none of her usual amusement. Hurley felt a pit of fear trickle into her bowels. She'd forgotten, in her infatuation, that the Raven was a criminal and that they would end up enemies eventually. They'd exchanged verbal blows, but neither had ever drawn a blade before.

Slowly, sharply, the Raven asked, "How did you find this place?"

Hurley swallowed hard. "I didn't know it was yours! I wasn't even following your trail today."

The Raven — _Sloane_ — shifted slightly, and Hurley suddenly became acutely aware that the other female was straddling her waist. Sloane seemed to think for several long moments before simply saying, "Oh."

Hurley relaxed; the danger had passed. Sloane's reaction had simply been automatic, an instinct to protect her home and her identity.

The silence was more uncomfortable than their normal ones, heavier and quieter. There were no wild chases, no quick retorts, no daring stunts.

There was just the two of them, Hurley lying in the grass, Sloane's hair curtaining them from the rest of the world.

Awkwardly and bluntly, Sloane stated, "You are a very confusing person."

Hurley's mouth shot off vaguely, "Am I?"

Wonder drifted across Sloane's face. "Anybody else would've arrested me ages ago."

Hurley replied pointedly, "Anybody else would've killed me ages ago."

Sloane's eyes grew huge and she hastily shoved her dagger into the sheath at her back. "Sorry." A beat passed, but she still didn't get up. "So. Are you not going to arrest me?"

Hurley shook her head, but they both knew that she wouldn't do it.

Maybe three months ago, but  not now. Not ever.

A quiet grin spread across Sloane's face. "Hey, Miss Not-As-Stiff-A-Cop-As-I-Originally-Assumed." She barreled on without waiting for a reaction. "Want to see something cool?"

At this point, Hurley would've followed her into hell. "Why not?"

 

Sloane sat on the floor of her workshop, surrounded by gears and the smell of oil. Normally, she fidgeted with a coin, rolling it over her knuckles and twirling and tossing. But now her fingers busied themselves in Hurley's hair, twirling the short strands into braids.

"But how did you pick yours?"

Sloane blinked. "What?"

Hurley's eyes shifted and her eyebrows twitched upwards. "Sloane, were you even listening?"

Sloane grinned, shameless. "Maybe."

Their once careful balance of games and chases had dissolved, completely demolished and lying in pieces at their feet. They adored each other openly now, physically and affectionately and delightedly.

Hurley had taken to battle wagon racing like a fish to water, but she still lacked one crucial element.

"Mine was easy," Sloane admitted, "My mother used to call me 'little raven' because of my hair."

Hurley made a face. " _My_ mother never called me anything."

Sloane rubbed the pads of her fingers across the gentle slopes of Hurley's face, tracing the path of her freckles. "She also called me far worse things, so who really won that one?"

Hurley chuckled and snuggled further into Sloane's grip. Sloane hugged her tightly, wanting her to know that, above everything, she was _safe_ here. "Can't you pick one for me?"

"No," Sloane replied, somber for once, "It has to be yours."

"But _Sloane_ ," Hurley protested.

"You're so stubborn," Sloane declared fondly. While their relationship was far from conventional (and how could it be, with one a thief and the other a member of the militia?), they still loved each other. But Sloane couldn't deny that Hurley had a stubborn streak; it was what made her such a good cop and such a fervent believer in justice.

"Not as stubborn as you," Hurley replied, refusing to give up the last word.

 

When Sloane refused to pick an animal for her, Hurley sought inspiration wherever she could find it. She flipped through the books at the militia headquarters, birdwatched when on patrol, and pestered Sloane about it whenever she could.

In the end, it came when the two were hiking in the mountains, searching for a rare herb that Sloane wanted to experiment with in the upcoming race. Cheerfully, Sloane added, "And I'm bringing you along for this race whether you have a mask or not."

Glumly, Hurley muttered, "You make it sound so easy."

"It really doesn't have to be that hard," Sloane replied, kicking a branch off the trail. "There's so many animals out there."

"Which is part of the problem." Hurley was a very swift individual, and so she normally didn't have any trouble keeping up with Sloane. However, she was falling a little bit behind today. The trail was poorly kept and it was much easier for Sloane to scramble over boulders and hop over fallen trees than it was for Hurley.

Several paces ahead, Sloane suddenly froze, one hand thrown out. Hurley immediately lightened her steps, creeping closer to peek over the bushes.

A family of goats was hopping up the mountainside.

Sloane gleefully shook Hurley's shoulder. In a low whisper, she admitted, "I _love_ mountain goats. I always thought they were silly, to scale a cliff face when a path would be so much easier."

Hurley examined the creatures with renewed interest. The largest was a ram, with large horns that curled back and around his skull.

The shape of them fascinated her.

It was as if the world wanted Hurley to be with Sloane, and so had helpfully dropped the perfect animal right into her lap. And hadn't Hurley done what these goats were doing? Hadn't she fallen in love with Sloane instead of taken the easy path and simply arrested her?

" _Sloane_ , what if I was a Ram?"

Sloane watched the goats make their way ever higher, chewing her lower lip in thought. "That . . . actually would fit really well. We haven't had a ram yet, and putting ram horns on the wagon would look pretty cool." The two shared a bright grin, and then Sloane added delightedly, " _And_ they're stubborn and small and think it's smart to hit things with their heads. Just like you!"

Hurley would've tackled her if she wasn't so busy kissing her.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to send me prompts for these two! i really want to write more of them


End file.
